When we awoke you were not to be
You never swam in our blue sea
Now you’ve gone to different oceans
Than the one we floated our hopes in
When we lost our baby, I did not know how to grieve. So I didn’t. I treated it like a failed cycle and put my hand to the plow, pulling my heart and body toward the next thing. We will get pregnant again, I told myself. That will make it all better. Lets pretend this never happened.
You were a breaking in the clouds
We barely said these things aloud
There was a question you were the answer
We heard music you were the dancer
But in the in-between time, waiting for my body to recover so we could begin treatment again, it eventually became too much to ignore that we had a child. Two children, I guess, though my mind can’t possibly comprehend the existence of that other one, the empty sac that never grew beyond four or five weeks. But that beautiful miracle on the ultrasound scream, the sound of the doctor exclaiming “There’s a baby with a heartbeat!” when we were sure we would see a lifeless blob, that was our baby.
Peace, sweet dreams
May you be in our memories
‘Til we finally meet
She is gone, and I’m not sure where she is. I believe in an in-between space, a heaven before heaven-on-earth, but I’m not sure what goes on there and what that should mean for me. The Bible isn’t very concerned with telling us about that. I guess it thinks that we should concern ourselves more with this “kingdom come to earth” thing.
But I do believe that things changed with the resurrection and that, one day, all will be redeemed. Will this look like my daughter running freely, healthy and whole? I hope so. I know that resurrection always looks better than we could imagine it looking.
I had a dream I was alone
The sun was hot, oh how it shone
And I was tired but I kept going
Wild winds were blowing
These lyrics are from the song ‘Til We Finally Meet, by Waterdeep. I got their album for free on Noisetrade, and I listened to this song on repeat during my run on Monday. I have no idea to whom or for what situation this song was written, but it felt like it was written for me. Like God was speaking to me through it, whispering that it is time, time to remember and mourn and celebrate this child of mine.
So, this month, as I once again resume nightly shots in my stomach, regular ultrasounds of my ovaries, and desperate prayers that this would please, please work, I am also starting to admit that my baby existed. I am starting to not just grieve her, but celebrate her. She gave me hope, she gave me a dream. She was a life, and no life is insignificant in this Kingdom, no death too small for resurrection.
And I looked up I raised my eyes
Your mighty branches filled the skies
And I found shade beneath your leaves
What wonder sorrow sees